Bitter Bloodlines

Chapter Three

My mother's dungeon was much larger than the Duke's gate keep - a cold, underground maze of hallways, dotted with dozens of heavy wooden doors. Each one was locked and barred, and painted with a fading number. Pierre, my servant guide, spoke quickly to one of the armored guards at the entrance, who took a row of keys from his belt, removed one, and held it out to me with a bow.

"Cell fourteen has been prepared for you, your highness," he said.

I felt dazed - hungry and tired, as if I'd been dragged through a day of training in a subject I didn't understand. My footsteps echoed on the flagstones. I found cell fourteen down a hall of dreamlike, identical doors, lifted the iron bar, and slipped my key into the lock. The heavy door swung inward with a touch of my hand.

Two big, brown eyes stared back at me out of the darkness.

"So," a voice said, low and amused. "You're the ruined princess."

I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the low light without the hallway's gas lamps. A girl stood in the center of the cell, her arms above her head, shackled to a chain that hung from the ceiling. She was roughly my age - young, but no longer a child. Her clothes, riding breeches and a long white tunic, were covered in stains and dust, her loose sleeves falling down around her elbows. Her dark brown hair, equally dirty, fell in tangled waves around her shoulders, framing a face that looked back at me with a wry smile.

I had never fed on someone so fully conscious, so fully aware of who and what I was. The way this girl met my eyes, without looking down or away, made my shoulders stiffen.

"You may address me as your highness," I said.

She laughed. Not a true laugh, but a mocking giggle, like the servant's children who used to offer me cakes I couldn't eat. Her heartbeat sped, but her face didn't show it.

"You may add disrespect to my charges, blood-sucker," she replied.

I pushed down the retort on my tongue. I was above this girl - a dirty prisoner, weak and helpless, sagging in her chains, craning her neck to look up at me. She shouldn't have any power to goad me with her words.

I stepped closer. She stiffened as I grabbed hold of the chains above her head, holding her in place.

"Do you feel powerful?" she asked, still refusing to look away. "Preying on people who can't fight back?"

Her closeness was stifling - the smell of her blood, the heat of her breath.

"I am a nasferata, not a hunter," I replied. "I don't feed for sport."

"Such civility from the queen's new guard dog."

I wanted to devour her. I wanted to make her apologize with a single breath, the way my mother had done at dinner. I wanted to cut her loose and watch her run off into freedom, hair flying, heartbeat racing, taking my guilt and longing with her.

I brushed her hair back with my free hand, exposing her neck. My other hand held firm to her chains as she pressed against me, warm and defiant.

"This will only hurt for a moment," I said.

"I hope you choke," she replied.

I sunk my teeth into her neck with the relief of a man finding shade after years in the desert. My tongue found salt sweat on her skin as her blood began to pour into my eager mouth, sweet and coppery and hot. She tasted of anger, deep and writhing.

She flinched at first, trying to pull away, but just like the rest of them, her muscles relaxed when my venom hit her bloodstream. I felt the weight of her sagging against her chains, into my arms. I knew the narcotic effect would ease her pain, and after a few seconds, begin to quickly clot her blood in the place where I'd bitten, preventing her from bleeding out after I'd had my fill.

I wondered what it felt like, to have the drug of me in her system. I remembered watching the Duchess drink too much wine, turning giddy and forgetful, and wishing I could do the same.

When I pulled away, revitalized, the girl had finally dropped her gaze from me, her eyes beginning to roll back into her head. She was fully limp, and I wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her steady so I could watch as her blood trickled slowly from the puncture wounds I'd made.

"Poor little princess," she mumbled, slurring her words as her eyelids closed.

I stayed until her vein was closed, watching her chest rise and fall for a moment before stepping back out into the hallway. I closed the door and locked it as quietly as I could, as if I were trying not to wake a sleeping child.

I returned the key to the guard at the end of the hall, who looked at me so strangely that I dabbed anxiously at my lips, worried I had spilled blood on my face.

"What is that prisoner's name?" I asked him. "In cell fourteen."

"Lady Carmen. Is she...?"

He bit his lip, trailing off. I felt my jaw clenching - unladylike, I remember learning. Leads to headaches.

"She is alive," I replied. "I kill only at the request of my queen."

*****

I met my mother the next morning in her drawing room, at her summons.

"My darling," she said, rising up from her couch to kiss me on the cheek. She sat again quickly, gesturing at the plush chair across the low table. "Sit. How have you found the castle? Is there anything you need? I can get you more servants, or ladies in waiting if you'd like them."

"I have what I need for now, thank you."

She squinted, examining my face as she held out a teacup for her servant to refill.

"You look tired, dear," she remarked. "I'll send one of my girls to your room, to make up your face. Did you sleep?"

I was not sure myself, if I had truly slept or not. Were they waking imaginations or dreams, the images of the girl in the dungeon that kept running through my head? I could not rid myself of those big brown eyes, the infuriating sound of her laughter, taunting me despite a complete lack of power.

"Appearances are so important, here at court," she went on, sipping her tea. "I assume you learned that in Raverre. Especially for a woman in power - I'm sure you noticed that my ruling council looks for any sign of weakness. They are vultures."

"Who are your allies here?" I asked.

She gave me a wry smile. "Oh, child. Aveline is not like Raverre - you'll find out soon enough. You are my ally here, and I am yours. You should trust no one else. They certainly will not trust you."

I bit my lip. "They do seem...frightened of me, here."

"Isn't it wonderful?" she asked, and then seemed to notice my hesitation. She leaned forward, reaching her hand across the table, and I placed my hand in hers.

"Oh, sweet thing, you shouldn't fret about the opinions of others," she assured me. "The fear you strike is what will keep the throne from being stolen by lesser men. You know I have faced much worse, in these eighteen years - the people fear a foreign queen just as much as a nasferata princess, but they feel that I am vulnerable to attacks. They would not dare to attack you."

"They will not attack you any more," I promised, warmed by her touch. "I will be by your side."

She let go and sat back in her seat, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. I felt lifted by her praise, her presence, the sense of camaraderie that she built between us. I had been dreaming of belonging for so many years.

"Of course you will," she said.